


End of an Era

by Anonymous



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Injury, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just why did Jon leave so suddenly?





	End of an Era

**Author's Note:**

> Look at the tags before you read. Thank you.

Ross wriggles, yawns, and stretches as he wakes up from a little afternoon catnap on Arin’s couch. He’s content; his work is done for the day and he’s just waiting for Arin and Jon to finish recording and then Arin is taking him out for Chinese food and maybe a movie. He’s excited. Ross hasn’t had a lot of time to himself lately and the idea of hanging out with Arin, just shooting the shit and doing nothing, sounds like heaven. 

Ross reaches his arms over his head and makes several long noises of relief as he feels his shoulders pop. His tight T-shirt rides up and the cool air is pleasant on his bare belly. He thinks he must look a little silly as he stretches, his limbs flailing, making weird groaning sounds, but there’s nobody here to judge him.

He drifts back into a lazy half-dozing state, not fully asleep but not awake either. He loves this feeling. Ross is completely and utterly relaxed. The sun coming in from the big window is warm on his face and neck. 

Then he opens his eyes, and he’s not alone in the room.

“Jon?” Ross is surprised. He sits up slightly, frowning. “You guys are done already?”

“Nah,” Jon sits down hard in a chair. It creaks under his weight. “Arin had to go take care of something else. “It’s just me and you in here.”

“Oh,” Ross says, feeling mildly shaken. He frowns again. There’s no reason for him to be uneasy. He knew Jon was here, and its not like Ross had expected privacy in Arin’s living room. “Ah, when will Arin be back?”

Jon’s eyes drift down over Ross’s body. He can’t seem to stop staring. “Not for a while,” he finally says. There’s a catch in his voice. 

Ross doesn’t like it. He tugs his shirt over his bare stomach, suddenly feeling self conscious. Why does Jon look like that? His gaze is so intent, like Ross has something on his face. He thinks maybe Arin wrote something stupid on his forehead, or maybe he had drooled on his shirt a lot. Ross takes stock of himself quickly to make sure nothing was wrong. Everything seems to be in place, except -

Ross looks down, and feels the blood drain from his face.

The panties, the fucking panties he liked to wear to feel cute - the ones with the lacy pink trim at the top - are sticking out of the waistband of his jeans, clearly visible.

No wonder Jon had been staring.

Ross feels sick. This is the last fucking thing he needs - for his fresh reputation in America to be tainted by stories about how he’s a sissy wearing girls’ panties. It’s not something he has any desire to show off. And if he did, the last fucking person on the planet that he’d show them to would be Jon fucking Jafari.

“Jon,” he begins, his voice quavering. “Listen, you’re not gonna…you’re not gonna tell anyone that…”

Jon laughs and comes over to sit at the end of the couch. His thighs brush Ross’s feet and Ross draws his legs up, not wanting the contact. His stomach is rolling with nerves.

“You okay, Ross?” Jon asks him, his tone strangely sweet. Ross looks him in the eye and suddenly his stomach feels even worse.

“No,” Ross manages finally. His tongue feels like parchment. “Look, Jon, I just…listen, I’m going to go home.”

“What?” Jon sounds surprised. “You were going to come out for dinner with me and Arin, weren’t you?”

 _I didn’t know you were coming._ “I’m not hungry,” Ross lies.

“We could go see a movie instead.” Jon leans in closer. “We could go right now, just the two of us. It’d be more fun than waiting around.”

“I want to wait,” Ross blurts. “I want to wait for Arin. I’m - I’m gonna call Arin right now. I’m gonna - ”

“Whoa, hey,” Jon laughs, putting a hand on Ross’s ankle. “You gotta calm down about him.”

“What?” Ross’s heart pounds loud in his ears.

“Well, I know you like the guy,” Jon says with his eyebrow raised, “and it’s pretty obvious when you like someone. I mean, look at how you are with Barry.”

“Barry?” Ross almost squeaks, and wants to smack himself for it.

Jon looks almost apologetic. “The way you act around him is pretty embarrassing, really. You have to play it cool. People talk about you, you know.”

“You’re lying,” Ross says hotly, even as his mind races, pulling up all the memories of times he’s acted awkward around Barry due to his crush. Had he been that obvious? Did he look desperate?

“Why would I lie to you, Ross?”

 _Because you’re fucked in the head,_ Ross thinks, and for the millionth time he wonders just what the fuck everyone sees in this guy. Arin’s cool, and Arin likes Jon; Holly is okay around him, and Holly’s picky about people. Everyone thinks he’s funny, and the fans all love him. 

_Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re the weird one. You wear panties to work under your clothes, you think normal people do that?_

“I - I dunno,” he says stupidly. “I didn’t think I - people don’t really talk about me, do they?”

“Ross,” Jon sighs, “look at you.”

“What?”

“You really think I’m going to believe that you just ‘fell asleep’ all sprawled out on the couch with your shirt almost off and your panties showing? Lying there with your legs spread, moaning…”

“I…I didn’t…” When Jon put it like that, Ross does feel pretty slutty. He didn’t mean to be, but…maybe Jon was right, maybe it was weird.

“Did you think Arin was going to come back and find you like that?”

“What!”

“Or did you know that I was the only other person in the house?” Jon leans in close. He puts a hand on Ross‘s hip. “Did you put those panties on for me, Ross?”

Repulsed, Ross opens his mouth to say something like _God no, you sick fuck,_ or _Get away from me_ , but nothing comes out of his throat.

“It’s okay,” Jon says quickly. “Hey, it’s okay, calm down. It‘s okay if you did. I think it’s cute.”

“No,” Ross croaks. Suddenly he feels like he’s going to puke. He doesn’t like the look in Jon’s eyes. 

Jon’s hand slides up and under the hem of his shirt and Ross, stunned, allows it to happen for maybe ten seconds before he snaps to his senses and grabs Jon’s wrist.

“Hey,” Jon says mildly, and he doesn’t move his hand. “Relax, Ross.”

“Stop touching me!”

“I think you want to be touched,” Jon laughs, his fingers stroking Ross’s bare skin. “I think you want it pretty damn bad.”

“Not from you!”

“Oh? Not from me? Maybe Barry or Arin, but not me? Is that how it is?”

“You’re fucked,” Ross snarls at him, anger overriding his fear now. “You’re fucking disgusting, okay, of course I don’t want _you._ ”

Jon’s other hand is fast, faster than Ross would have anticipated. He grabs Ross’s wrist and squeezes hard enough to grind the bones together. Ross’s grip on Jon’s hand loosens and he whimpers.

“Is that any way to talk to me?” Jon asks him. “You came all the way to America, you flirted with Arin until he let you work for him, and you wanna screw it all up by acting like a brat?”

“I didn’t come all the way here for - I don’t care about _you_ , you pompous shit - Arin thinks I’m - ”

“Arin thinks you’re what, exactly? His friend?” Jon gives an ugly laugh. “He thinks you’re a slut, did you know that? He was hoping you’d be a little easier to lay, but then you went and fell in love with Barry instead. Barry doesn’t like you either, by the way. He feels sorry for you. It's so pathetic watching you throw yourself at him.”

“You’re talking out your ass,” Ross says, but weakly. His face is burning as he remembers every single time he’d ever blushed or gotten tongue-tied around Barry. 

“What do you think they’ll say if I tell them I don’t want to work with you? You think Arin will choose you over me? When I’m the other half of his whole fucking career?”

“Jon.” Ross doesn’t want to beg, but he can’t help it. He just wants this to stop. “Please, Jon, listen, I-I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, okay. I didn’t mean to. I won’t say anything about this if you don’t. We can forget about it. I don‘t want Arin to choose between us.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Jon swings his legs up and crawls forward to straddle Ross, his weight pinning him down. “How about you stop being a tease and deliver what you’ve been offering?”

Ross’s terror skyrockets. “Get off me!”

“Why?” Jon asks, perfectly unconcerned. His attitude is making Ross feel so off-kilter. Jon’s face is still jovial, his eyebrows slightly creased, as if Ross’s negative reaction was the weirdest part of this. It’s making Ross doubt everything he says and feels. “I can make it good for you. You can close your eyes and pretend I’m Barry, how does that sound?”

“Arin’s going to come back,” Ross whispers. “Arin’s going to come back, he’s going to see what you’re doing to me.”

“Nah,” Jon says, glancing at the clock. “He’s not gonna be back for an hour. And besides…” He grips Ross’s chin. “I’m going to tell him that you wanted this, if you’re stupid enough to tell him. I’m his best friend, Ross. You’re some pathetic little fan boy that crossed the entire world to suck his dick and mooch off his success. Remember that.”

Ross blinks the tears away and doesn’t answer. It was true, wasn’t it? Jon was Arin’s best friend. 

Maybe Arin was in on this. Maybe that’s why he’d left. Maybe he and Jon would high-five after this, and maybe next time it would be Arin who would come and hold Ross down and call him names.

But no - that didn’t sound right. Arin was wonderful. His gaze didn’t make Ross’s skin crawl, and he never gave Ross that queasy feeling in his stomach like Jon always had. _It was a gut feeling, you idiot, you knew all along that there was something wrong with Jon, and you ignored it, and now you’re paying the price for your own stupidity._

“I’ll scream,” Ross threatens, tears boiling behind his eyes. He can’t think straight, can’t comprehend how or why this is happening. Is it a joke? Jon was an ass, but he wouldn’t actually _hurt_ Ross…would he? 

“Who’s gonna hear you?” Jon laughs at him again. “Scream all you want.”

“Jon, please…just stop this, I’m scared. Please…Jon…”

Jon leans down and kisses Ross wetly on the neck. “I like when you say my name like that,” he murmurs.

Ross sobs, he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Jon, but he doesn’t know what else to do. Jon is so big and heavy on top of him, and Ross is haunted by Jon’s threats. What if he did tell Arin to get rid of him? Ross could sense that they were on the brink of something big, something truly incredible. He’d only just got his life in LA sorted out, his marriage solving the biggest hurdle of immigration. He’d purchased a big house with Holly that was dependent on both of them continuing to succeed in their fields. If Ross lost Arin’s support, what on earth was he supposed to do? 

A nasty voice slithers through his mind. _Maybe Jon is right. Maybe you are a slut, and now you’re just getting what you deserve. Maybe you should just take it and stop making a fuss._

Ross isn’t even sure what Jon wants. He envisions Jon making him show him the panties, maybe wanting some kissing, maybe wanting to jack off on him or have Ross jack him off. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? 

God, what was he saying? _Fight, you useless idiot, what are you doing, just letting Jon Jafari grope you like this?_ Jon wasn’t some huge muscle-bound jock, he shouldn’t be able to do this to Ross so easily. 

Ross shoves at Jon’s chest, wriggling beneath him to try and break free. Jon only chuckles. When he shifts position, Ross suddenly realizes that the hardness against his thigh is Jon’s dick digging into him. His struggles are only giving Jon more friction, giving him the pleasure that he wanted. Horrified, he tries to keep his body still and fight with his fists.

“Stop,” Jon grunts. “Fucking - stop it, Ross, you’re not going to win.”

Ross doesn’t stop. He hits Jon in the back of the head once before Jon grabs his wrist. Then he gets a knee up and jams it into Jon’s belly.

“You fucking - !” Jon gasps for air. Even that doesn’t slow him down, however. Soon he’s back in control, seizing Ross’s wrists and holding them together as his hand goes to Ross’s belt and begins to fiddle with it.

“No,” Ross cries. “No, Jon, stop.”

It’s too late. His belt is open, and then his fly, and then his jeans are down and Ross’s tiny panties are exposed. Jon’s hands are on him, cupping his soft dick and rubbing at it until Ross’s body responds to the touch.

“See,” Jon says in a low, breathy voice, “you did want this. I knew it. You just love being a cocktease.”

Ross blinks, and the next thing he knows, Jon’s cock is out, just his cock, sticking out of the fly of his jeans. He _doesn’t_ want this, no matter what Jon says. Jon’s dick is short and fat, ruddy and shiny at the tip with arousal.

“No,” Ross croaks as Jon’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of his panties.

“Okay,” Jon agrees, smiling sickeningly. “I can leave ‘em on, that’s fine. That’s just fine, Ross. You look so pretty. I’ve always thought you were so pretty.” His left arm is a bar across Ross’s chest, holding him in place. The other hand moves to pull Ross’s panties to the side, revealing his opening. “Pretty and easy, that’s why Arin likes you so much. I wondered at first.”

A dry finger brushes Ross’s hole. He sobs once, kicking uselessly, but disgust and terror are making him weak. 

Jon reaches up and shoves his fingers against Ross’s lips brutally. “Suck,” he orders.

Ross presses his lips together, refusing.

“You want them to go in dry?”

Ross’s mind whites out and all sound becomes one faint hum. When he whimpers, Jon seizes the chance and shoves his fingers inside his mouth, almost gagging him. Ross thinks about biting, but then Jon says, “If you don’t cooperate I won’t bother to prep you at all,” and Ross realizes that there is no escape. He closes his mouth around Jon’s fingers and tries to collect saliva in his dry mouth.

 _I’m going to pass out,_ he thinks to himself dully. It’s so much worse than he’d thought. Jon doesn’t want a hand job or some fondling. Jon wants to fuck him. Jon wants to fucking rape him, and it would have sounded so ridiculous if it weren’t for the fact that it was fucking happening right now. Jon’s tongue keeps wetting his slimy lips, and he thrusts his fingers in and out of Ross’s mouth, and suddenly the intrusion is gone but Ross feels the pressure of Jon’s fingers on his hole.

A last burst of energy rips through Ross’s body and he starts to buck and flail. Jon, lulled into complacency by his own pleasure, takes a kick to the chin before he starts to fight back. The two men wrestle on the couch, Jon cursing and threatening, Ross deaf to his words.

Jon has the upper hand. He’s bigger than Ross, and he has the weight advantage of being on top, and Ross is half-frozen with fear. Still, Ross puts up a fight, futile as it is.

Jon’s trying to restrain him, and Ross won’t stop fighting. It ends up with Ross’s arm trapped between their bodies, his hand bent in an awkward angle. Jon’s trying to get his hand around Ross’s throat, using his body to crush Ross into the sofa cushions. He gets one of Ross’s legs hooked over his shoulder, but then he manages to move just right to jam Ross’s ring finger between their torsos. 

He hears the snap of his finger before he feels it. The pain hits him in a sickening rush and Ross shrieks. Jon’s body isn’t moving and Ross’s finger continues to bend, the broken bones grinding together. He screams again, and Jon hits him hard in the mouth.

“Shut up,” he hisses. “Shut the fuck up, you’re fine.”

Ross’s eyes water. Blood runs down his chin from his split lip. He tries shoving at Jon again, but Jon grabs his injured hand, covers Ross’s mouth, and twists the broken finger. 

The pain is too much. Ross screams into Jon’s hand, agonized, unable to move. Tears pour down his face. He twists and flails and tries to bite Jon’s hand.

“Fuck it, that’s it,” Jon says, out of breath from wrestling with Ross. “You don’t fucking deserve my fingers.”

Ross watches in horror Jon spits in his free hand and reaches down to slick himself with it. 

“If I take my hand off your mouth, are you gonna stop screaming?” Jon asks. “I want to hear you make some pretty little noises, but I don’t want you to scream in my face.”

Ross nods jerkily, whimpering. He wants to breathe. 

“Good,” says Jon, and he takes his hand away just and reaches down to pull Ross’s panties to the side so he can nudge his cock up against Ross’s hole. 

Ross thinks that this should all be more dramatic, that something in the universe will shift before this terrible thing happens to him, but it all goes so fast. Jon just cants his hips forward and the head of his dick breeches Ross with a deep, burning ache. Ross gasps so hard he chokes on it and Jon just laughs and shoves himself halfway in. 

It’s dry and painful, and Jon is clearly not interested in making it last. He grunts and grabs a handful of Ross’s hair, yanking on it as he fucks him with short, brutal strokes. Ross is making the most embarrassing choked noises, almost sounding like he’s enjoying it. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It just feels like every thrust from Jon is squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“See, it’s good,” Jon soothes. “Keep being a good boy and I’ll show you how much fun we can have.”

With horror, Ross realizes that his cock is stirring to life at the constant pressure on his prostate. He prays Jon won’t notice, but of course he sees; the tiny panties don’t exactly offer a lot of privacy.

Jon laughs and gives him a few sloppy strokes, coaxing him into half-hardness much to Ross’s shame. “So this is what you wanted?” Jon asks. “You wanted someone to come along and rip your panties down, fuck your tight pussy, is that it?”

Ross’s mouth opens in a silent cry as Jon speeds up. 

“I knew it. I knew you’d love cock.” Jon’s out of breath, panting in Ross’s face. “I knew from the second I met you that you were nothing more than a whore. This is all you’re good for. This is what you get for acting the way you do.”

Ross’s mind is whirling, his defenses crumbling. He looks down at himself, at his half-hard cock bouncing with the force of Jon’s thrusts, and thinks that maybe Jon is right. Maybe he does deserve this. A tiny whimper escapes him and he closes his eyes, waiting for it to be over.

Jon’s hips slow suddenly.. Ross cracks open an eye and sees an odd look on Jon’s face. Terror sticks in the back of his throat as he wonders if he’d angered Jon somehow, if this was about to get worse.

Then he realizes that the door is open.

“Hey,” Jon calls before Ross can make a sound. “Close the door, we’re busy for a bit.”

“Ross?”

It’s Barry’s voice. He sounds off, too. Surprised. Maybe a little disgusted.

“Help me,” Ross tries to say, but his voice is a papery whisper. Jon quickly presses down on his throat, silencing him.

Jon’s voice is a little high pitched, a little worried. “Barry, go tell Arin I’ll be out in a minute.”

“No,” Barry says quietly. Ross can see his shadow move when he steps into the room. “Jon.”

“What?” Jon asks, with an edge to his voice. He’s trying to sound angry, but he’s scared.

“Let Ross answer.”

“He’s fine,” Jon says quickly. He glances down at Ross with his face full of warning. “Close the damn door, Barry, this is pretty fuckin’ rude.”

Barry can’t see Ross’s face from the door, Ross realizes. He can’t see Ross’s tears. Is he going to believe Jon? Is he going to leave? _Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me here with him._ Ross summons up all his courage and strength. He bucks his lower body up, knocking Jon off balance, and takes the opportunity to shove Jon’s arm off his throat.

“Barry, help me, get him off me!”

Jon freezes. Time comes to a stop. His cock is still halfway inside Ross’s ass. 

And then Ross blinks and Jon is pulling out of him, leaving him feeling painful and raw. 

He blinks again and Jon is on the ground, screaming in pain, and Barry’s on top of him, punching downward, blood on his knuckles and Jon’s face. So much red, red coming out of Jon’s nose and lip and from above his eye. Time is still moving in a funny way and Ross can’t keep track of it.

Barry’s face is red too, but from anger, not blood. Every time Jon tries to talk, Barry hits him again.

A new voice cuts through the air. “What the _fuck?_ Barry, what the hell are you - ”

“No,” Barry says roughly, “trust me, Arin, he deserves it, go see if Ross is okay.”

“Ross?” Arin is unsure. Then, “Oh, God, Ross!”

When Ross tries to stand, he falls. Pain shoots through his abdomen and he sobs once but keeps trying, not knowing where or how he’s going to escape, but knowing that he has to get out. There’s noise and shouts and so many men, all of them bigger than Ross, and he doesn’t know who wants to hurt him anymore. 

Someone is draping one of the soft throw blankets from the sofa over his lower body, covering him. Ross wants to crawl beneath it and hide his face, hide from everything.

“Hey,” Arin says, getting down on their knees and putting his arm around Ross’s shoulders. “Ross, it’s okay.”

“Arin,” Ross whimpers, wanting to bury his face in his friend’s chest. Then he remembers. 

_Jon’s friend…he left you alone with Jon._

Panic grows fast in his chest, makes Ross feel dizzy all over again. He shrinks away. “Don’t hurt me,” he pleads. “Arin, don’t let him hurt me again.”

Arin sucks in a sharp breath and his arm drops from his shoulders. “I’m not - I’d never - oh, Ross, fuck…”

Ross tries to breathe. Arin stays very still.

“Tell me,” Arin says in a very low voice, “did Jon…was he…did he - rape you?”

The word is to Ross’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. He shivers and can’t answer.

“I saw him,” Barry says, pinning Jon to the floor. “I saw him doing it. I heard Ross cry for help.”

“He wanted it,” Jon gasps. “He fuckin’ wanted it, I swear, he - ”

Ross gags. Arin backs away just in time and Ross throws up noisily all over Arin’s nice plush carpet. _Suzy’s gonna hate me,_ he thinks stupidly, staring at the mess.

“Yeah,” Arin says jerkily. “I don’t think so, Jon. I’m calling the cops.”

“No,” Ross manages. Oh, God, he doesn’t want to have to tell the cops about what happened. They’d only laugh at him.

“They’ll throw Barry in jail.” Jon’s talking quickly. “I’ll say he tried to kill me because he was jealous that I hooked up with Ross.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Come on,” Jon manages to prop himself up on his forearms. “Look at him, wearing women’s underwear to work, he wants to get fucked. And I don’t have a weapon, what kind of cop is going to believe Ross just laid down with panties on and spread his legs and _didn’t_ want to get fucked?”

“Stop,” Ross whispers.

It’s true, isn’t it? A cop would take one look at him and wonder why his knuckles aren’t bruised, why he shows no signs of fighting back. His finger is probably broken but that would be easy to pass off as coincidence. And if the cops got involved Ross would have to tell more people, let nurses and doctors touch him…

“You need me,” Jon tells Arin. “You need Game Grumps, you need me with you. Tell you what, just don’t call the cops, I won’t get Barry arrested for assault, and we’ll forget this all happened.”

Ross holds his breath. 

“I don’t need shit from you,” Arin spits. “You fucking pig.”

“Arin - ”

“No, Jon. It’s over. It’s fucking done, you hear me?”

Barry throws Jon onto the floor and stands up, wiping his hands like they’re greasy from touching him. He comes to crouch by Ross, keeping a sharp eye on Jon at the same time.

“Ross.” Barry’s face is white and splotchy. He’s trembling, his fists clenched. “Are you okay? Your hand…”

Ross manages to get to his knees. He looks down and the world wobbles a bit. His finger is hideously swollen and crooked. He sways, and Barry catches him, holds him lightly. 

“I…I said no,” Ross manages. “I…I didn’t want…he said I wanted it but I don’t…I didn’t….I’m not a tease…”

“It’s okay,” Barry says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay, Ross, just breathe. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” Ross voice breaks. “I didn’t mean to be…a slut…”

Barry curses. He exchanges a look with Arin.

Arin’s face is murderous. His eyes are almost black with rage.

Then Jon’s standing up, trying to run, and Ross doesn’t see what happens next but by the time the police show up, it’s all over. Jon is taken away, after a paramedic briefly mopped the blood off his face.

They don’t arrest Arin, or Barry, despite Jon’s yelling about assault.

**

The cops are thorough, and respectful. Ross finds that he can’t talk to the male officer without trembling, and they let him speak to a woman instead. She asks a lot of invasive questions and Ross tries his best to answer.

The exam is invasive too. But they give him a shot that makes his head feel fuzzy, and it takes the pain away. 

His finger gets put in a little splint to hold it straight. It’s the least of Ross’s worries. 

After, they let Barry and Arin see him, and Ross puts his head on Barry’s shoulder and lets him stroke his hair. 

“What are you gonna do?” Ross mumbles to Arin.

Arin doesn’t understand. “I’m gonna drive you home,” he says.

“No,” Ross lifts his head. “I mean, about…about Game Grumps, about Barry and Jon’s house…” The two still lived together, and Ross didn’t want to think about Jon being released and going home to trash Barry’s part of the house - or worse. _He could hurt Barry._

Barry doesn’t look frightened, though. He just looks sad.

“Don’t worry, Ross.” Arin says. “I’m not thinking about that right now. I’m thinking about you.”

Ross still feels bad. Is it his fault, if Arin’s dream dies because of him? Because he tempted Jon, because he acted like a slut?

“I thought you would choose Jon over me,” Ross confesses after a few moments of silence.

Arin takes Ross’s hand. “Never,” he says hoarsely. “Nobody will ever fuckin’ touch you again, okay? I won’t let them. I should have killed him.”

“But your show…your dream…”

“We’ll figure that out.” Arin moves to hug him but stops, unsure. Ross comes to him first, wrapping his arms tight around Arin’s big, solid body. Arin hugs him back and says, “Everything will be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift to a friend - you know who you are.


End file.
